As the World Falls Down
by George H
Summary: An in-character turn on the series, which will eventually end up slash, featuring Malcolm. Rated by chapter. (chp. 5 uploaded)
1. Chapter One: A Disenchanting Dinner

**As the World Falls Down**  
a Star Trek Enterprise fanfiction  
by George H.  
29 June 2002 - 5 November 2002  


CHAPTER ONE: A Disenchanting Dinner  


    A two-tone chirp off the nearest wall woke Captain Jonathan Archer, who was contently sleeping in his bed with Porthos curled at his feet. The sound was followed by another trill, and only then did his prone form let out a groan as he rolled over and reached up, blindly groping along the wall with his hand until he found the communicator switch. "Archer," he managed, his voice thick with sleep.  
    "Captain," came T'Pol's dry voice on the other line. Jonathan sat up and rubbed his eyes, blearily looking at Porthos, who returned the sleepy gaze.  
    "What is it?" he asked, swinging his feet over the side of his bed and stretching as best he could with one hand on the wall.  
    "We've picked up a distress signal emanating from the orbit of a relatively near by planet," the Vulcan Sub-commander answered. "We've already altered our course to intercept."  
    Archer rubbed his eyes, wondering what it was about this little call that T'Pol needed to awaken him for. "Good, good," he murmured. He cricked his neck and finally straightened, opening his eyes completely. "What's this all about, T'Pol?"  
    "The crew of the stranded vessel is insisting on speaking to the Captain. I informed them that you were unavailable, but they insisted." T'Pol's methodically monotone voice was uninspiring to Archer this early in the morning.   
    "I'm on my way."  


    A very short time later, the doors to the turbolift opened on the bridge to reveal the captain of the ship _Enterprise_. He was dressed in his uniform and looked rather bright eyed and bushy tailed despite the odd hour of the night and the fact that he had just been awoken a few short moments before; Archer knew how to clean up and fast. He straightened his flightsuit as he stepped around the console and came up to stand beside T'Pol. His eyes, however, were not on the Vulcan beside him, but instead on the viewer screen in front of him, where the face of an alien was projected far larger than life. Archer nodded and stepped forward.   
    "My name is Jonathan Archer I'm the Captain of this ship. My Sub-commander here tells me she picked up a distress signal from your vessel. How can we help you?"  
    The man on the viewing screen sat back in his chair to appraise Archer, and the captain of _Enterprise_found he didn't like the scrutinizing eye he was given. After all, hadn't he just been awoken out of his sleep to respond to a distress signal put out by these people? He wasn't too keen on letting them play him like a puppet. He was happy to help them with their problems, but he wasn't going to be pushed around.  
    "I am Tsul of Jaar," the man said. He seemed to sense Archer's annoyance at his attitude so he backed off, lacing his fingers together in a steeple as he spoke. "Our engines seem to have gone offline. We do not have parts to replace. Perhaps you can help?"  
    Archer looked to Hoshi for a moment, but the translator was not at her station. Then he remembered it was the middle of the night and most of the crew was asleep. Which brought up an interesting issue. "I'm sure my men can help you with that, Tsul. What was it that you needed to see me for, that my Sub-commander could not suffice?" he questioned. Tsul's eyes darted to T'Pol with little appreciation and then fixed back on Archer. Jonathan was struck by the eye's yellow colouration and felt a chill creep up his spine. He shook it off as Tsul spoke.  
    "We have little regard for womens in charge positions," he answered curtly, looking at T'Pol blatantly. "We did not know if she was trying to trick us into sabotage!" Jonathan smiled at him coolly and nodded.  
    "I can assure you and your crew neither myself nor any members of my crew, T'Pol included, are interested in sabotaging your ship. We are on a peaceful mission of exploration."  
    "Yes, yes, that is what your woman 'Sub-commander' said too, but your starship has great weapon capability so how can we know she does not lying to us to gainer our trust?" Tsul said smartly. Jonathan casually scratched the back of his neck.  
    "Well you have my word that we will not harm your people or your ship. We just want to help. If you'll send over specifications on your ships engine, I'll have my Chief Engineer get right on it. I'm sure we can fix your problem in no time."  
    "Thank you, Captain Archer. I transmit information now," Tsul nodded to a member of his crew visible in the background of his ship as only a blurred figure. Archer nodded in return, and the transmission ended. He stretched a little and looked back to T'Pol.  
    "Well that went well," Archer said, but was met only with T'Pol's flat gaze.  


    Several hours later Archer and Tucker were briskly walking down the corridors together with T'Pol flanking them, all headed in the direction of the shuttlepod bay. Trip had been briefed on the alien ship's faulty engine, but he was unable to offer any suggestions on how to fix the problem without getting his hands on the engine itself. "Getting' kinda wary of bein' invited down t'all these dinner parties after rescue missions, sir," Trip said as he cast a glance to his friend and captain.  
    Jonathan just smiled and kept his eyes looking forward as he replied. "I think it's rather nice that so many alien cultures all feel fit to thank us in a similar way. It seems to be a real universal tradition, this dinner-repayment." He cast a glance over his shoulder at T'Pol, as if looking for agreement, but although the Vulcan met his gaze, she did not make any comment towards the conversation. "Excluding, of course, those alien cultures in which eating in public is considered very bad form," he added softly under his breath.  
    "Yer sayin' that after our dinner meeting with the likes of Zobral?" Trip countered, one eyebrow raised in disbelief.  
    "Now, now that was a different matter entirely. Zobral sabotaged his own ship to get us to repair it so he could convince me to help his side of his planetary war."  
    "I know. Y'don't have to tell me. I was there remember? Some dinner that turned out t'be. Between eating," Trip pulled back a little and gestured in the air, "th' 'essence of the male'," he cast a sharp glance over at Archer, "and getting dehydrated near t'death, I reckon I won't go on any more planetary leave with new alien friends who want to share dinner with us for a long while yet."  
    "You fail to presume that such indelicate foodstuffs could be served to you on board an alien vessel," T'Pol said in her monotone voice from behind. Trip cast a tired look over to Archer and shook his head.  
    "She's got a point, Cap'n. All the same, I reckon I'll sit this one out down in their engine room."   
    "Suit yourself, Trip," Archer said with a wry smile and raised his hand to open the door that lead into the shuttlepod bay. He turned back to T'Pol, who was practically standing at attention outside the door. She looked at him, waiting for instructions. "Have Travis keep orbit with the ship. I don't imagine this will take longer than a few hours, so be on stand by."  
    "Yes, sir," T'Pol answered. With that, Archer nodded and went into the bay himself. He caught up with Trip who had already opened the door to the shuttle, retrieved his tool case and was now standing outside the pod, looking at it thoughtfully.  
    "Having second thoughts about shuttlepod travel Trip?" Archer asked and the man in question blinked and looked to his captain with a smile, then back to the shuttle.  
    "Nah. No fear of shuttlepods Cap'n. I did all right on my trip to Risa, and hey, I was never happier to see a shuttlepod than when we got picked up by T'Pol after spending that night in the desert. No sir, just reminiscin' I reckon. Spent a lot of time in one of these things. Just sayin' a little prayer that I don't have t'spend as long with you in one as I did with Malcolm."  
    "Well it seems to me you and Malcolm became good friends after that incident," Archer commented, entering the shuttle and moving towards the pilot seat. "So it seems it wasn't all bad." Trip fixed Archer's back with a flat unimpressed gaze for a few seconds then clambered in after him, setting his tool case aside and sealing the door.  
    "Yeah, we get along all right now I suppose, so long as he's not tryin' t'encroach on my space in Engineerin'. Still think he's a stuffy little guy though," he commented and added offhandedly, "Ships sealed and ready for take off, sir." With that, he made his way to the navigator chair behind the captain. "Still, I'd've much rather buddied up to Malcolm some other way than freezing our butts off without any oxygen."  
    Archer chuckled lightly as he began the take-off procedures, his hand touching the comm. as he looked at Trip. "Shuttlepod two, ready for take off," he said into the air, and T'Pol's voice came back to them.  
    "Opening shuttlebay doors now."  
    The doors beneath them began to swing open, and the shuttle shifted with the gravity release. Trip checked the instrument measurements and privately shook his head at the easy way Archer laughed off the events he and Malcolm had endured in shuttlepod one. It would be a mistake to say that he and the captain hadn't faced their own near death experiences together, since they had, quite a few times since _Enterprise_ had been launched, but never to the point of such despair as he had had to face with Malcolm. After all, they had thought _Enterprise_ had been destroyed. He hadn't admitted it to Malcolm during the flight, wanting to be optimistic instead of accepting death, but he hadn't had much hope of being rescued either. That was the main reason he had never rubbed in Malcolm's face the fact that they had survived.  
    "Trip, fire up the engine."  
    Trip shook himself out of his reverie and nodded, moving to comply as was needed. Soon the little shuttle's engine flared to life and they were zipping away, out from underneath the belly of _Enterprise_, heading for the diamond-shaped silver ship in the distance.  


    "It is a many pleasures to meet you, Captain Archer and Commander Tucker. Please, find comfort on our vessel," Tsul said with a flourishing gesture towards the corridor they were in, which apparently lead to the rest of the ship. "My staff has prepared great meals for your enjoyment! Come, come!"  
    Trip backpedaled a moment and shook his head, not even bothering to look at his captain for permission to refuse. "Now, beggin' your pardon, Mister Tsul, I don't mean t'be disrespectful in the least, but I just had me a big helping of Chef's pot roast and I don't think I could eat another thing! I just want t'get the engines fixed up for y'nice and pretty like, so if you don't mind, could y'maybe get one of your staff t'show me t'engineerin' instead?"  
    Tsul exchanged glances with Archer before laughing heartily. "Well, so be it! I never have met a man so eager to help strangers before that he would pass up Jaar meal!" He clapped his hands twice and a slender woman arrived. She wore flowing maroon robes and was considerably smaller than Tsul. "Show commander to the engineering!" he commanded, and the woman bowed and led Trip off.  
    Trip offered a wave over his shoulder as he departed, following the woman. "I'll keep my communicator on. See ya, Cap'n!"  
    They rounded a corner and Trip took to studying the inside of his ship and the woman who was leading him towards engineering. "So, y'work in engineerin'?" he asked as he turned another corner after her. The woman didn't reply, and Trip wondered if his universal language translator had gone offline suddenly. He'd managed to understand Tsul well enough moments ago though, so that didn't make sense. "Is the engine room big then?" When he again received no reply from the woman, he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched and spun around.  
    Trip's hands went up in a harmless gesture, and his eyebrows followed suit. "Hey, hey, sorry. Easy now." The woman straightened, and her eyes darted down the halls. "Just askin' a simple question."  
    "I . . ." She looked at him, then down the halls again, as if to see if anyone saw her talking to him. "I just lead. Do as Tsul says. I don't do the engine." She turned to lead him again.  
    "So you're just a hired hand to show people around on the ship?" Trip asked, his brows narrowing. He got a bad feeling about this. It didn't help to remember how poorly these people had treated T'Pol upon first contact.  
    "Hired?" the woman echoed.  
    "Yeah, you know: paid to perform a service," Trip countered quickly.  
    She bowed her head and laughed softly while she shook it. "Oh no. It is my birthright to do this for Tsul. Payment? What a silly thing. I am just a woman."  
    Trip's eyes narrowed further in displeasure. "So you're a slave, basically."  
    "I don't know this meaning, 'slave', but I must hurry you to the engines or they will flog for lateness! Come! Follow please! No more questions!" With that she picked up her robes and scurried off down the hall. Trip bit his tongue and followed her, fighting down the urge to turn around and demand that the captain fix the way this woman was being treated. He had to remember they weren't here to change these people's culture, just to fix their engines.  


    "Archer to Tucker, come in," came the sound of Jonathan Archer's voice over the open communicator link. Trip, who was tightly wedged between two coils and covered in greasy black lubrication, cursed. "Commander Tucker, come in," repeated the voice.  
    "I hear you Cap'n, and I'm tryin' t'get t'the phone, just hold your horses," he wiggled around and after a little twisting, slid out from between the coils and reached for his communicator. "Tucker here, sir," he replied, wiping a hand over his brow and smeared dark streaks across his face.  
    "Something the matter?" Archer asked, concerned over the delay.  
    "Nah, sir, just got myself a bit wrapped up in my work and took a bit of extractin' t'get t'my communicator," Trip answered truthfully.  
    "I see. How goes the repair work?" Archer inquired.  
    Trip leaned back against a bulkhead and scratched the back of his neck. "Can't say for sure, sir. It'll probably take two, maybe three more hours?"  
    "Well, keep me posted. I'm heading back to _Enterprise_. Apparently T'Pol found some quirk in our power uplinks. I'll send the shuttlepod back over when you're done."  
    "Okay," Trip said, but before ending transmission added, "Hey Cap'n?"  
    "Yes, Trip?"  
    "How was dinner?"  
    There was a pregnant pause and then Archer's steady voice answered, "Sometimes, I wish I were a engineer."  
    The communication ended with Trip's hearty laughter. He pocketed his communicator and moved to go back to work.  
    Trip ducked his head to start back into the space between the coils, but stiffened at the sound of a click behind him. He pulled back, turned around and came face to face with Tsul aiming a firearm at his face. Trip's eyebrows shot up in alarm, but he couldn't offer any sort of defense. "You should have come to dinner with us," Tsul said in his thick voice, his tone darker than before. "Get up," he commanded and stepped backwards enough that Trip could find his feet. Tsul never once let the firearm waver from Trip's face.  
    "What's this all about?" Trip started, not comprehending why just his reluctance to eat dinner with this man would be grounds for killing him. If it wasn't eating in front of the Kreetassans it was not eating in front of the Jaar! "Have you told Cap'n Archer about this yet?"  
    Tsul hissed, and the firearm's nozzle started to glow. "Silence! You do not speak without permission!" Trip stiffened and decided to submit. Whatever misunderstanding there had been, he was sure the captain would get him out of it in the end. He let Tsul turn him around. Another slave woman came at Tsul's call and bound Trip's wrist together behind him with thick, tight cording. He was then paraded down the corridors to the bridge.  
    Trip was stood in front of the bridge. He looked quite a sight indeed, what with being covered from head to foot in engine grime, with his hair tousled and his hands tied behind him. Tsul set two male armoury guards up on either side of Trip, both holding firearms at the ready. Trip knew better than to protest his treatment and simply stood still as he watched Tsul sit down in the captain's chair.  
    "Raise the shields and target the warp core," Tsul stated with a wave of his hand. The officer behind him snapped to and began the procedure.   
    "They hail us, sir," another officer further away on the bridge stated. Tsul straightened his robes then sat straight in his chair, careful that both he and his prisoner could be seen from the viewing screen.  
    "Put them through," Tsul said. The black view screen in front of Trip suddenly was filled with the view of _Enterprise's_ bridge. The center of attention, was T'Pol, sitting on the edge of the captain's chair. Archer was nowhere to be seen, but Trip had no doubt that wherever the captain was, he was on his way to the bridge now.  
    Tsul hissed softly to see T'Pol in the captain's chair again. Trip found he did not like the look the Vulcan gave to him as her eyes swept over the Jaar vessel; he knew she was already blaming him for screwing up and getting into this predicament, and Trip hated her in that moment for her incorrect assumptions. "Explain your actions Tsul of Jaar," T'Pol demanded. The initial hail was to be an inquiry on the raising of shields and targeting of weapons, but now Trip's life was clearly at risk, and that became the priority.  
    Trip tore his eyes off T'Pol and looked to Travis, who seemed brave but wary, then to Malcolm, whose face was unreadable and tense. "You insult us for the last time, woman," Tsul growled.  
    "We apologize for violating the traditional and cultural standards you uphold. I assure you however, I would not be speaking to you if the captain was on board our ship. I am certain you realize that he is still onboard your vessel."  
    "You were very unwise to send both captain and first officer to me. Now what have you to bargain with but your crews lives?" Tsul sneered at T'Pol across the channel.  
    T'Pol inclined her head ever so slightly. "I have no desire to negotiate with you," she began.  
    "And neither do I," Tsul interrupted, "for we do not negotiate with womens. We shall release your captain shortly, but not before we execute this first officer in repayment for the insults we have endured."  
    Trip's back stiffened as he heard the words. From the corner of his eye he saw the guards on either side of him flipping what appeared to be safety locks off their firearms and lowering them to bear at him. He wanted to get out of this but didn't know how to, or how he had even gotten into this predicament. Tsul's eyes lowered to look at Trip, so he could enjoy the execution first hand.  
    "Then negotiate with me!"  
    Tsul looked up at the bridge displayed before him intensely. Both T'Pol and Travis had turned in their seats and were looking at Malcolm, who had sprung to his feet. He now moved out from behind his console, approaching the viewing screen. "After Commander Tucker, I am next in command," he stated with a slight nod to T'Pol. He positioned himself in front of her. "If you want a man to negotiate with, then negotiate with me."  
    Tsul laughed heartily at Malcolm's stance, and with a faint wave he bid his guards to lower the weapons they had trained on Trip. Tsul rubbed his chin, seeming almost excited at Malcolm's interference. "And what would you negotiate with, Third in Command?"  
    Malcolm squared his shoulders and although he wanted to look over his shoulder to get some sort of reading from T'Pol on what he was doing, he had to assume that anything was better than killing Trip right off. Malcolm clenched his fists at his sides and lifted his chin. "What is it you want?"  
    "The death of your commander," Tsul answered curtly.  
    "Let's settle this without having an execution involved." Malcolm was tense and nervous and it was all he could do not to look at Trip as he tried to negotiate for the engineer's life against this seemingly uncaring alien.  
    "Without death, you ask?" Tsul said and his eyes darted back to T'Pol. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully a moment then leaned back in his seat. "Very well then." He pressed a few buttons on his console and grinned brightly. "Our scans show there is a large percentage of womens on your vessel. Hand them over for our services, and we shall let your commander go freely."  
    Malcolm's eyebrows narrowed. "That's an unacceptable exchange."  
    "Oh? And why is that? I feel it very generous. One man is easily worth one hundred womens," Tsul answered, smiling brightly, "and you have less than fifty".  
    "Perhaps in your culture this is so, but women are equal to men amongst our people, and that exchange wouldn't be fair."  
    "A life for a life then?" Tsul jeered, drumming his fingertips on his armrest. "Yours perhaps, in exchange for his?"  
    Malcolm was aware that Trip's head jerked to look at him sternly, as if trying to use his eyes to convince the lieutenant not to agree to that exchange. Malcolm, although he did not look for it, was always ready to accept death. He straightened even taller and inclined his head slightly. "I'll accept that trade," he said without a waver in his voice.  
    Tsul got to his feet and began to laugh. "You are a brave yet foolish man," Tsul said chidingly. He raised his hand, flattened his palm out and then struck downwards. "Perhaps not brave enough." His hand slapped his thigh and as soon as the clap sounded, the guards on either side of Trip turned and fired their weapons.  
    Trip didn't even have a moment to brace for the impact of the assault. One of the guards hit him in the stomach and the other in the throat. He doubled over and barely felt his knees hitting the deck before he toppled and passed out into a sea of blackness and pain.  
    "No!" Malcolm surged forward when Trip had fell, and now his hands gripped tightly to the back of the helmsman's chair. After Malcolm's cry faded all that could be heard was the dark laughter from Tsul, who now presided over Trip's prostrate form.  


To be continued . . .

Special thanks to DNash for being my awesome beta-reader.  



	2. Chapter Two: Face Off

20th October 2002 - 16th November 2002  


CHAPTER TWO: Face Off  
Rating: PG  


    Malcolm stood motionless for several seconds, staring at the now blank viewing screen in horror. Without warning he pushed off the back of Travis's chair and within a second was behind his console, loading torpedoes into their bays.   
    "Lieutenant, I would advise against firing weapons upon Tsul's vessel, as the captain is probably still alive and on board their ship," T'Pol said with deadly seriousness in her voice. Malcolm's head snapped up, his eyes glaring hard and cold as he looked at her.  
    "I can't sit here and do nothing!" he hissed back angrily. T'Pol lifted her chin ever so slightly, as though she had been physically hit by the force of the emotion in the words Malcolm had just projected. He opened his mouth to shoot off another retort, but a buzzing sound on Travis's console caught him mid-breath.  
    "They've just launched our shuttle," the helmsman stated, and both T'Pol's and Malcolm's eyes shifted to look at Travis. T'Pol moved swiftly to her station and ran a quick scan on the shuttle. "I'm detecting one biosign. It's human."  
    "The captain," Malcolm breathed softly. T'Pol moved from her station to Hoshi's and opened a hailing frequency to the shuttlepod.  
    "_Enterprise_ to shuttlepod two," she stated clearly. When there was no reply after a second hail she moved from the communication console to the turbolift. There she pressed a communications button and said, "Dr. Phlox, have a medical team meet me in shuttlebay two." After an affirmative from the doctor she fixed Malcolm with a solid glare, and then she was gone.  
    Malcolm looked down at his weapons display and cursed silently to himself. "Sir, we're receiving a hail," Travis said and the helmsman quickly got stood up and moved to Hoshi's station since the communications officer was no on duty - and with good reason: two women on the bridge would have most likely angered the Jaar even more. Malcolm got to his feet as soon as Tsul's face reappeared on the viewscreen.  
    "What do you want now?" Malcolm growled coldly, barely able to restrain the anger he felt at seeing the Jaar captain again. Trip's body had since been moved from where he'd fallen, and that didn't help his feelings of rage. Tsul smiled broadly at Malcolm this time, apparently pleased at something.  
    "We return your captain. It is good your female has gone. It is best if you leave now. We still have target your warp core," Tsul said with a hint of dark mirth.  
    "We're not leaving without Commander Tucker," Malcolm answered flatly.  
    Tsul sneered and shook his head. "He has sacrifice himself for your people. Do not make that in vain," the Jaar captain replied. Malcolm tightened one hand into a fist as he listened to Tsul.  
    "It is customary to my people to return the dead to our homeworld, and to bury them there." Malcolm was speaking through clenched teeth, but Tsul seemed unimpressed.  
    "Why should we respect your tradition if you did not respecting ours? No. I think we keep Second in Command."  
    "I'd advise you return my man to me, immediately Tsul, otherwise this little chat is going to turn very ugly very fast." The tactical officer turned as he heard Jonathan's voice behind him, and saw the captain exiting the turbolift. He was alone. T'Pol apparently had enough sense not to come back onto the bridge since her presence would only further anger the Jaar. Malcolm moved back to his tactical station as Archer walked to the center of the bridge. Sitting down at his console, the armoury officer rechecked his weapons and was pleased with the result; if Archer wanted a showdown he was ready to cooperate. "Polarize the hull plating, Mister Reed," Jonathan said without moving his eyes off Tsul. The lieutenant nodded and double-checked all the displays for the plating. He felt infinitely relieved that Archer had returned safely. Getting an order from the captain helped him not think about Trip. Instead, he could focus on the weapons, a job that he didn't allow his feelings get involved in.  
    "You are knowing we have your warp core targeted," Tsul said coolly but his haunting yellow eyes were narrowed nonetheless. "Why risk all crew life for one?"  
    "There is no one man or woman on this vessel who is more important to me than another. We all came out here together, and we're going to go home together. The way I see it, you can return him to us without a fight or we can settle this with fire power." Archer took a breath and then steadily said, "Mister Mayweather, prepare for evasive maneuvers." The captain kept his eyes locked on the Jaar as the helmsman moved from Hoshi's communication station back to his navigation console.  
    "I am fail to see why you are wanting a dead man; he is no good for engines anymore," Tsul remarked, his voice remaining steady but sounding like he was beginning to doubt. His eyes flickered from Mayweather to Archer.  
    "He is a good friend and comrade. I want to honour his death and return him to his family," the _Enterprise_ captain answered, stone-faced. "What good is he to you?"  
    Tsul straightened up in his chair, apparently ruffled by the question Archer asked. The three men on _Enterprise's_ bridge waited for an answer, but Tsul seemed suddenly at a loss for words. He gripped the arms of his chair and simply glared.  
    "They're firing weapons, sir," Malcolm stated, and seconds later the ship was rocked by an impact. Archer remained on his feet, his brows beetling in tightly controlled anger. "Hull plating holding," Reed reported.  
    Archer stepped forward, toward the view screen. "What do you want with Commander Tucker?" he demanded after a moment's silence.  
    "They're firing again," Malcolm announced, and as he did, the ship lurched at Travis's command. It was too close to maneuver to avoid the attack entirely, but the impact was less, striking the starboard side instead of directly hitting their nacelles. The captain swayed with the motion, but remained standing. Something was up. Archer could feel it, but what it was he didn't know.  
    "Answer me!" the captain shouted, his tone hard and angry. Tsul lifted his chin, glaring down his nose at Archer. "Why should you punished my people with death for helping to fix your engines?"  
    "You have nothing to demand with anymore, Captain!" Tsul finally shouted back. "And as for fixing engines, he did not even get so far as that!"  
    "So you killed the only man who could help you _not_ be a sitting target?" Archer retorted. Tsul straightened, his face void of expression, but did not reply. "You're not going anywhere any time soon," Archer continued after Tsul's moment of silence. "And I've got nowhere more important to be than here."  
    Tsul inclined his head in the slightest. "You will not firing, lest you destroy your precious Second in Command body," he finally stated, trying to sound sure of himself but failing.  
    Archer fixed Tsul with a steady glare and then calmly said, "Fire torpedoes, Lieutenant." Malcolm didn't need a second command and within seconds the Jaar ship shook from the weapon blasts _Enterprise_ had fired at it.  
    "You cannot penetrate our shields," Tsul said confidently, lacing his fingers together in front of him. He leaned back in his chair, smirking.  
    "I've got all day," Archer answered with a mirthless smirk. "Bring the phase cannons online, Mister Reed."  
    "Already active, sir," Malcolm replied.  
    "Fire."  
    Tsul's ship rocked more, but it was obvious their shielding was still holding. Archer crossed his arms over his chest as he glared at the Jaar. "We can and will whittle away your shields until they come down. I'm fairly certain you can't fire back without lowering them, and you're certainly not going anywhere with that faulty engine of yours." Archer shrugged casually. "I've got all the time in the galaxy."  
    Malcolm, showing his true tactical prowess, then began to fire at the shielding on the Jaar vessel, focusing on one area with a weapons rotation spread, the intent to weaken the shields at that point. Behind Tsul, one of his own officers reported, "Shields down to sixty-three percent."  
    "You will come to regret this fire on the Jaar!" Tsul hissed and the transmission promptly cut off. Archer's shoulders dropped a hair, but he remained standing.  
    "Sir?" Malcolm asked.  
    "Keep firing," Archer replied. He finally took a breath and returned to his seat. Malcolm returned to his tactical endeavors and before too long one of the blasts hit the Jaar ship directly, penetrating through their shields.   
    "Direct hit, sir," the tactical officer announced, his voice carrying a hint of surprise in it. Archer straightened; they had worn down the shields faster than he had expected.  
    "They're down already, Lieutenant?" he asked.  
    "I can't be sure, but I think they've lowered them," Malcolm replied and rechecked his weapons readout.  
    "Incoming hail, sir," Travis said, getting up to move to Hoshi's station.  
"Oh, so now they want to talk do they?" Archer commented. "Cease fire," he added, waving his hand a little with the order. He waited a moment for good measure then nodded to Travis to bring up the hail. "Decided to play it our way now?" Archer asked as soon as Tsul's visage appeared on the screen. Tsul said nothing, but his face was solemn and he looked very upset.  
    "We have had committee and will exchange fifty of our womens for your departure. Please be wise and accept," the captain of the alien vessel stated. Behind him, several women dressed in flowing robes knelt with their heads bowed nearly to the deck floor. Archer stiffened in his chair but did not get to his feet.  
    He wanted to chide Tsul for his attempt at 'compensation' but held his tongue, hearing T'Pol's disapproval in his ear even though she was not present. "Your trade is unacceptable," he replied instead. "What I want is my man. I suggest you cooperate now, before I get angrier."  
    Tsul stiffened this time and with a wave of his hand he dismissed the women behind him. He watched them depart from the corner of his eye and then looked back to Archer sternly. "You drive hard bargain. Why should I risk loss of _Enterprise_ help verses your weapons? Either way, my people die if we sit here and no engines."  
    "I fail to see how that's my problem. I sent you help in the form of my chief engineer, and you killed him," Archer answered back, his tone harsh, cold and direct.  
    "We make new deal," Tsul said at last, and leaned forward, interlacing his fingers as he did so.  
    Archer wanted to say he wasn't interested in Tsul's deals anymore but instead he merely inclined his head, not yet trusting his tongue. "Your second in command for _Enterprise's_ engineering computer information. Then my people can fix engines alone."  
    This offer was the best yet, and although Archer was not pleased with having to turn over Starfleet technological information, he was willing to do so in exchange for Trip's body. It was better than risking more death. He made an impressive pause while he pretended to think it over then nodded. "Agreed then, but on the condition that you return my man to me first. Then I will transmit the engineering information."  
    "How do I know you will not leave first!?" Tsul angrily countered.  
    "You have nothing to believe but my word," Archer answered darkly, reiterating his own words from earlier. "And so far my word has been a lot more than trustworthy than your own. The choice is yours," he added and leaned back in his seat.  
    Tsul studied Archer for a very long time before finally hissing and calling to one of his female aids. "Send them the second in command!" he shouted at her. She bowed her head and then turned and hurried off. Tsul looked back over the channel at Archer, his eyes narrowed to menacing amber slits. "You drive hard bargain, Captain, for such a foolish price."  
    "And I wonder why you would risk your life for a dead man you don't know," Archer replied in a soft growl. The communication link between himself and Tsul ended.  
    "Sir, they're launching a small shuttle," Travis stated, once more back at his station.  
    Archer reached over and held down his commlink. "Doctor Phlox, get a medical team together and meet T'Pol in shuttlebay two," he stated. After an affirmative reply, he switched commlinks, "T'Pol, meet Doctor Phlox in shuttlebay two. I'm on my way," after her acknowledgement he got to his feet. "Travis, send the engineering data files on my word. Malcolm, you have the bridge."  
    With that, he smoothed out his uniform and exited into the turbolift.   


    Phlox and T'Pol were already inside the shuttlebay by the time Jonathan made his way down to join them. The small shuttle the Jaar had sent over had just been secured in. Phlox was standing by and T'Pol was directing a detail to open the pod. The shuttle itself was just a little larger than Trip himself, acting more like a coffin capsule than any sort of real transport. Archer hit the comm. button on the wall and ordered Travis to transmit the engineering information to the Jaar. As soon as Travis replied, Archer released the commlink and moved towards the shuttle.  
    Trip was neatly laid out in the pod with his arms folded ceremonially over his stomach. He looked relatively peaceful, and Jonathan was grateful to see his suffering appeared eased in the end. Seeing Trip with an expression of pain on his face would have been very difficult to bear. He wanted to help but Phlox already had the detail carefully lift the engineer out of his capsule and bear him onto a stretcher. Phlox then performed a quick scan of the prone body and shook his head sadly. He looked up at Archer and said, "I'll let you know of any developments, of course. For now, I'd like to take him to sickbay so I may examine him before the autopsy." Archer, too choked up to say anything, simply nodded.  
    He remained standing by the now empty capsule as he watched Phlox and his team carry Trip out of the shuttlebay. After several moments of cold silence, T'Pol spoke. "It might be best if you returned to your quarters to reflect, captain." Archer lifted his chin having almost forgotten T'Pol was standing behind him. He turned at last to look at her, trying to keep his emotions in check.  
    "There will be time for that later," he stated at last. "Right now, my crew needs me." With that, he took a breath and started forward, heading back to the bridge.  


    "Mister Mayweather," Archer said quietly as he stepped onto the bridge. Malcolm and Travis looked at their captain as he spoke. Hoshi had arrived in his absence, and she watched him, too; her eyes looked wet and red, as though she'd been crying. Apparently, although she had not been present, someone had informed her of Commander Tucker's death. Archer met each of their eyes and held their gazes meaningfully before he looked at the stars on the viewing screen. "Lay in a course for Earth, warp three." He sat down into his captain's chair, feeling as though he carried a heavy weight on his shoulders.  
    There was silence on the bridge for several long moments as Archer's words dissipated in the air, and then Travis nodded and replied, "Aye sir."  
    Once the ship was turned around and on its new course heading, Archer got to his feet and smoothed his uniform out. "Due to today's events you may all be excused from your duties." He opened his mouth as if to say more, looked at them all again, then smiled sadly. "He will be greatly missed."  
    T'Pol entered the bridge at that moment with three officers flanking her to relieve Malcolm, Travis and Hoshi of their positions. Travis took a deep breath and got to his feet with a nod to his replacement. Hoshi got up very quietly, her arms wrapped around her middle, and departed just as softly. Archer and T'Pol exchanged glances. Malcolm clenched his jaw. "I'd like to remain at my station, sir," the tactical officer announced.  
    Jonathan looked at Malcolm tiredly but instead of arguing with the lieutenant he simply nodded. He knew Malcolm and Trip had become close friends and that Malcolm would probably drive himself mad in guilt over the affair if left to himself in his quarters. Malcolm was the sort of man who needed to occupy himself with work at a time like this. "Granted," Archer answered quietly. He remained where he was until Malcolm looked at him. "It wasn't your fault, Malcolm." Malcolm gave Jonathan a curt nod, but said nothing. The crew shifted, and Archer left T'Pol in charge of the bridge.  
    He didn't return to his own quarters yet though, and instead made his way down to sickbay. He knew he should be writing a full report on the encounter with the Jaar and talking to Starfleet about the incident, but at that moment all he wanted to do was see his friend and say goodbye.  


    Sickbay wasn't as sterile and motionless as Archer expected it to be, and no real somber mood filled the air. He stood for several moments just inside the doorway, wondering at the buzz he heard in the air. Then Phlox darted past, heading from one side of the room to the other. "Ah, Captain, good to see you!" Phlox called from out of view. Archer's brows beetled as he approached, wondering at Phlox's cheerful disposition. He knew the Denobulan generally had a positive outlook on life, but in the shuttlebay the doctor had seemed more subdued.  
    "Something the matter, Phlox?" Archer asked as he rounded the corner. He paused in his tracks upon seeing Trip's body laid out on an examination table. The engineer's uniform and dress shirt had been opened and his blue undershirt had been cut away to reveal his chest. There was a dark bruise on the lower half of his stomach and another one partially visible around his neck. Phlox had attached several electrical output wires onto his stomach, chest, and forehead but the thing that shocked Archer the most was the breath mask over Trip's nose and mouth.  
    "No, sir. Actually, nothing _is_ the matter. Which I suppose is a problem in and of itself," Phlox answered smoothly. He checked several of the wire outputs and seemed to think about something.  
    Archer remained confused and shook his head. "I don't understand," the captain finally confessed.  
    "Mister Tucker," Phlox said simply and then waved his hand over the body. "Aside from some bruises, he is perfectly fine. I see no reason why he should be dead."  
    "What?" Archer asked as he stepped forward and looked down at Trip's face.  
    "He had an electrical charge course through his body, the impacts of which would seem to have left these marks," Phlox stated, gesturing two the two bruises. "However, bruises are very uncharacteristic of an electrical injury, which lead me to believe he had been hit with more than just energy. So far, however, my scans revealed nothing abnormal. I feel the bruises must have been inflicted after the initial attack. The attacks were charged enough to overload his system and render him unconscious, but I see no way that it could have killed him."  
    "You mean he's alive?" Archer demanded.  
    "Well, technically, yes," Phlox answered and waved the scanner in his hand for emphasis, "and no."  
    "I'm getting impatient, Doctor!"  
    Phlox began talking rapidly. "Judging by Mister Tucker's wounds, the voltage he received was not enough to kill him. I postulated that the energy flows contained some sort of radiation charges or other compound that would cause death, but found none. There are no poisons, no other wounds, no other toxins in his system, and no sign of trauma. In fact, his brain is still giving off some waves."  
    Archer was quiet for a long while as he processed this and then asked, "So you're saying he's just . . . asleep?"  
    Phlox shrugged. "I wish I could say so, but if this is a coma, it is unlike any coma I've ever seen."  
    Archer nodded to the mask over Trip's face. "He's breathing?" he inquired.  
    "Not on his own, Captain," Phlox stated and nodded to a monitor. "After I examined him and realized he might not be dead, I took the liberty of hooking him up to life support."  
    "Why didn't you notify me sooner?" Archer asked.  
    "I tried. Sub-Commander T'Pol informed me you were already on your way," the doctor replied. Archer wondered for a brief moment how the Vulcan had known he was planning to head to sickbay instead of his quarters.  
    "Captain," Phlox said softly. Archer looked back to him. "Although Commander Tucker is not technically dead, he was without oxygen for quite some time." He paused for a moment and then proceeded. "Even if he does regain consciousness he will most likely be severely brain-damaged."  
    Archer swallowed hard and looked back down at Trip. He wasn't sure what was worse: knowing Trip was dead, or knowing he was techincally alive and that the onus of whether or not to take him off life support would fall to him. He clenched his teeth and nodded resolutely. "Do what you can, Doctor," he finally said. Phlox nodded and returned to work. Archer walked to the nearest commlink and hit the button. "T'Pol," he said.  
    "Yes, Captain?"  
    "What do the Vulcan databases tell us about the Jaar?"  
    "Very little, sir," she replied.  
    "I want you to get on the line with the High Council. Find out whatever you can about the Jaar, but focus on their execution methods. And let me know if anything about Tsul turns up," Archer commanded. "I just can't believe they would kill their only means for survival and then so vehemently refuse to give him up if he wasn't still useful to them. Get anything you can."  
    "Yes, sir," T'Pol replied over the link. Archer let go of the comm. and looked back to Phlox.  
    "I'll be in my quarters, writing out a full report. Contact me if there is any change," he informed the doctor.  
    Phlox offered him a smile and nodded. "But of course, captain."  
    Archer looked back to Trip and took a deep breath. For now, the goodbyes would have to wait.  
    He turned his back on the medical room and tightly closed his eyes, hoping to block out the image of Trip's body that seemed to be burned into his vision. It was an attempt made in vain. He opened his eyes once more, let out the breath he held, and departed sickbay quietly.  


To be continued . . .   


Special thanks to DNash for being my awesome beta-reader.  



	3. Chapter Three: Realizations

**As the World Falls Down**  
a Star Trek Enterprise fanfiction  
by George H.  
20th November 2002 - 22nd November 2002  
Rating: PG  


CHAPTER THREE: Realizations  


    The bridge seemed like a cold and foreign place the morning Jonathan Archer stepped out onto it to tell his senior officers the news about Commander Tucker. Travis was sitting in his helm chair, swiveled completely around to look at the captain as he stepped off the turbolift. T'Pol was perched on the edge of her seat, following his movement across the room with slightly hooded eyes. Malcolm was at his tactical station, sitting straight-backed and at the ready. Beside the armoury officer stood Hoshi, who looked the most rattled of the crew present. Archer himself felt a gust of wind could blow him to pieces, but he knew he had to be strong for his crew at this time of need.  
    He opened his mouth to greet them, but how did one begin this sort of a speech? He closed his mouth and moved until he was standing in front of his captain's chair. Everyone was looking at him and he had to take a deep steadying breath before he could begin. "As you all know, Commander Tucker was attacked yesterday by hostile aliens," he began. He let his shoulders droop a little as he took in all their expressions. "While we were able to recover him from the Jaar vessel, he still sustained a lot of injuries. The good news is, he _isn't_ dead." He saw Hoshi put a hand on Malcolm's shoulder and squeeze it at his words. He looked over to T'Pol for a brief moment. "The bad news is, Phlox says even if Trip does recover from his wounds, he may be permanently brain-damaged." His eyes flickered to Travis and held his gaze for a while.  
    "What this means is that Trip is in a coma. Lieutenant Tess is acting-Chief Engineer until he recovers. I suggest you all try to take some time out of your schedule to visit him, as Doctor Phlox says he may be able to hear us. He feels familiar voices might help." He looked back to T'Pol before closing his eyes. "Doctor Phlox has also volunteered his psychiatric help, if anyone feels they need counseling." He glanced to Hoshi but attempted not to make the look too pointed. He didn't think seeing Phlox for counseling would be a bad idea for himself, either.  
    He took a moment to breathe after this and then continued. "I talked to Admiral Forrest late last night. He advised against returning to Earth for further medical treatment, as Doctor Phlox is perfectly capable of all procedures necessary to help Trip along." He met Travis's eyes and nodded a little. "So you can resume our prior heading, Mister Mayweather."  
    "Aye, sir," the ensign replied. Archer looked at the stars displayed on the view screen and then glanced behind him a moment before sitting in his chair.  
    The captain took a deep breath, looked at all of his present crew one more time and then nodded. "Let's go."  


    The doors to sickbay were closed and the insides seemed fuzzy and indistinct through the frosted windows as Archer stood outside them, trying to get the nerve up to go talk to Doctor Phlox. It was unlike him to be nervous over discussing any sort of thing, especially with someone who was as impartial as the doctor, but after the Denobulans outlook on his sexual tension in the past, Archer found himself more and more reluctant to listen to anything Phlox had to say in regards to personal matters. He was certain that if he went in for counseling about Trip, the doctor would only bring that point back up, and he had just recently been able to push it aside and stop dwelling on it.  
    Still, there was undoubtedly a certain truth to some of what Phlox had said, and the doctor was the most impartial and confidential person on the entire ship. Even when Trip had been around to talk to he had never felt comfortable divulging personal information to the engineer. Now, it was a moot point anyway. Especially since it was Trip he wanted to talk to the doctor about. As they said, sometimes it's easier to talk to strangers.  
    He took a breath and raised a hand to open the doors to sickbay when a voice halted him. "Captain," it said. He turned, hand still raised, and looked right at T'Pol. He let out a breath and dropped his hand, turning completely.  
    "What is it, T'Pol?" he inquired.  
    She produced a data pad and offered it to him. "This is the Vulcan database's full account on the Jaar. I haven't had a chance to look through it entirely myself, but there seems to be more information included than I previously recalled. I apologize for my incorrect information yesterday."  
    Archer accepted the pad, looking down at the surface briefly before glancing back to her face. T'Pol was standing at attention, her hands behind her back. "You just happened to be walking by with this in your hand?" he inquired, his tone almost teasing. T'Pol arched an eyebrow at the question.  
    "You requested that the information be delivered as soon as possible. I was merely carrying out my orders," she answered directly.  
    Archer found himself smiling a little and wondered at his ability to do so in light of the situation. "I see. Well, did you notice any mention of Tsul in the database?"  
    "No, sir," T'Pol answered.  
    "All right then," Archer said with a finalized touch to the words. When T'Pol did not appear to be moving on he inclined his head. "Was there something else?"  
    She seemed to hesitate in her response, wavering a moment before nodding slightly. "You're going to visit Commander Tucker?" T'Pol inquired. Archer looked at her a little curiously before nodding.  
    "Yes," he finally answered.  
    "I simply wanted to express my condolences. I know you and Commander Tucker were close friends and that this period in time must be . . . difficult for you," she stated simply. Archer found himself smiling again.  
    "I appreciate that a lot, T'Pol, thank you. Perhaps you'd like to join me in paying Trip a visit?" Archer asked, wondering if he sounded overly polite, or just ridiculous.  
    T'Pol's chin lifted a little bit and Archer had been around her enough to know that she was trying to find a way to politely decline the offer. "In such a situation, I would opt for meditation and self-reflection," she replied at last, avoiding the question entirely, per usual.  
    Archer slipped the data pad into one of his leg pockets, zipped it shut, and crossed his arms, interested in her answer. "Vulcans meditate a lot, don't they?" He asked, although he knew quite enough about Vulcans to know the answer.  
    T'Pol nodded once and explained, "Meditation, as I'm certain you know, is one of the many ways my people suppress our emotions."  
    "So you're saying I should just, suppress my feelings for Trip?" Archer inquired, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.  
    "As you are the captain of this vessel, it would be unseemly for your grief to too fully consume you. Discretion and meditation would be advisable," the Vulcan answered.  
    Archer shook his head. "That may be how it works on Vulcan, but my crew needs to see that it's okay to be hurt by this. They need to see that there is nothing wrong with grieving."  
    T'Pol was quick to counter. "I did not mean to imply that is it unacceptable to grieve, merely that it is unfitting for the captain to let such grief overshadow his performances."  
    Archer frowned at her reply. "Are you saying I'm not doing my job adequately enough for you?"  
    The Vulcan fixed her gaze directly on him before clearly saying, "You often let your emotions dictate your actions. As your first officer, it is my duty to advise you in certain situations."  
    "Situations you feel I'm not handling as well as I could?" he asked, baiting the question. T'Pol looked down the corridor to see if there were any crewmembers walking along within hearing range.  
    "Perhaps it might be wisest to finish this conversation in your ready room," she suggested placidly. Archer's frown deepened as he felt anger rising in him.  
    "I just about lost a man -- my best friend, over a dinner disagreement yesterday. I'm still not sure why they wanted to kill him! You want me to act like he's not lying in a coma in the room over? We're not Vulcans. We feel, we love, and we hurt, and we'd only be denying ourselves if we tried to deny it. I don't think there _is_ any better way to handle this situation."  
    "It was unadvisable to help the Tsul to begin with. Their distress call was most likely only a ploy to receive assistance so they could kidnap our engineer and use him for themselves," T'Pol said flatly.  
    "I don't care what the database says about the Jaar or the Klingon's or anybody else. When I see a stranded vessel or receive a distress call, if it is at all within my power, I will stop to help them. There was no way for us to know the Jaar would attack Trip or hold him hostage or whatever," he countered hotly. "You've got to learn to give someone the benefit of the doubt. Your stereotypes are unsuitable for a Starfleet officer."  
    "I am not a Starfleet officer," T'Pol answered coolly. "And your mission is one of space exploration, not space rescue. In the situations where we have encountered vessels needing assistance, over half of them have proven to be unduly dangerous. The logical extrapolation of these events seems to suggest that you change your method of answering distress calls."  
    Archer wanted to yell at her more, to rebuke her for her purely Vulcan way of thinking, but a part of him knew that she was speaking some truth. He didn't have to accept her views, so long as he understood them. "Your argument has been noted, Sub-commander," he finally replied sharply. "Now, if there isn't anything else, I'd like to go visit my best friend."     T'Pol's eyes flickered just the slightest. "That is all," she replied.  
    Archer nodded and looked at her a moment more before they both turned away from each other. She continued back along the hallway while he finally hit the button for the sickbay doors, and entered. His inhibitions about seeing the doctor seemed to have vanished. T'Pol was undoubtedly a beautiful woman, and she was very intelligent, but although as a single man he was attracted to her, Archer knew there was no chance that a relationship could ever work between them, regardless of rank. Entering sickbay with that mind set really helped put him into better spirits, which he needed if he was going to manage talking to Trip's prone form.  


    Malcolm had felt compelled to bring flowers down to sickbay when he visited but he couldn't explain why. He had never been brought flowers before, nor had he brought anyone else flowers, but it seemed the appropriate thing to do. Of course, it _wasn't_ really appropriate, nor were there any flowers on the ship. So instead he brought a data pad of Chaucer's _Canterbury Tales_ and a Superman novel, the former to subset for when the latter became too unbearably North American to read.  
    He entered sickbay with the pad tucked under his arm, walking with brisk, long strides. Phlox looked up from one of the cages he was bent over and smiled upon seeing him. "Aah, here to pay a visit to Commander Tucker I presume?" the Denobulan asked cheerfully. Malcolm inclined his head.  
    "Yes, if it's not too much trouble?"  
    "Not at all," Phlox said with a smile. He moved away from t he cage and lead Malcolm over to a curtained off section of sickbay. He pulled aside the divider and stepped back to let Malcolm enter.  
    Trip looked sallow in the lighting, and thinner than usual. He was dressed in a white medical gown and the bruise on his neck was visible. He still wore the breath mask and appeared to just be sleeping. Malcolm pressed his lips together at the sight. It was hard to see such a proud and strong man so diminished like this. The tactical officer looked his body over once before swallowing and speaking. "Hello, Trip," he began softly. "You're looking, ah, a bit paler than usual today."  
    The figure before him did not reply at all to him. Part of Malcolm had futilely entertained the notion that once Trip heard his voice, he would come to. However, being in the room with him made the reality of the situation clear; it wasn't going to happen.  
    "I, ah, I downloaded a Superman novel," he said, pulling the data pad out from under his arm. "I thought you might like to hear some of your favourite story while you . . . dreamed," he added softly. He looked around for a chair, found a medical stool and positioned it at Trip's bedside. "I've never read Superman before," he informed the unconscious engineer, "so I thought I might as well start now." It certainly wasn't his typical reading choice, and normally he would be teasing the engineer for the subject matter, but right now, that all seemed extremely trivial. He swallowed again, looking at Trip's chest rising slowly.  
    He pressed a few buttons on the pad, until the Superman text came up. He couldn't get over how strange he felt, sitting there, preparing to read an old North American novel out loud to an unconscious man, but there was some part of him that refused to let him stop. He didn't like to admit it, even to himself, but Trip had become a very important person to him. He cleared his throat as he skimmed the first line of the text and then began to read in a clear, steady voice.  
    After he finished the first chapter he paused and looked back at Trip for a long time. If the engineer had heard him reading, he had certainly not shown any sign of it. Not even the monitors connected to his heart rate and brain varied. It was incredibly depressing. The armoury officer set the pad down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at Trip's face. "You can't do this," he whispered quietly. "You can't lie here until you waste away and die." He stiffened a little as Phlox rattled one of the cages close to Trip's bed, reminding him that he wasn't alone.  
    Standing up, he pulled aside the curtain to look at the Denobulan. Phlox had a can of some sort of and appeared to be feeding whatever was inside the cage. Malcolm shuddered inside and wondered if this place was a medical facility or a zoo. "Might I have some time with Commander Tucker?" he inquired politely.  
    "Why, certainly," Phlox answered brightly and finished pouring the contents of his container into the cage. When he was done, he moved onto the next cage beside it. Malcolm pressed his lips together and then tautly said, "Alone, Doctor?"  
    Phlox looked up at him then, surprise registering on his face. After a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "As you wish," he answered and made to go into the adjoining room, out of hearing range. "You will let me know if anything develops?"  
    Malcolm had already turned his back to the Denobulan. "Of course, Doctor," he muttered and waited until he heard the door slide shut behind Phlox before he looked at Trip again. He felt hunched over and straightened a little on his stool. "I don't want to lose you," he breathed softly at Trip. "Not like this."  
    He reached his hand out briefly, as if to brush aside a lock of Trip's hair, but his fingers seemed to hesitate and then fell limply to the side of the bed. "I know you wouldn't think so, but I've become rather fond of you since we started out on this ship." He shook his head sadly. "I've become fond of everyone on this vessel, in truth, but you especially." He bowed his head, looking away from the engineer and instead at the floor beneath his feet.  
    "You taught me so many things, many of them inadvertently through just your personality. You taught me to joke and to play, and that adventures are more enjoyable in pairs. You taught me to look towards life and not death." He glanced up at the engineer's closed eyes. "You taught me to hope, Trip. You taught me that it's acceptable to open myself up to others. You taught me optimism, and with that came the greatest joys I've ever had. You showed me that _Enterprise_ is a family. _My_ family.  
    "I opened up for you, Trip. I let myself take down some of my walls so you could touch my soul further, because . . . because I had learned to trust and believe in you. You've all the charm, outgoingness, and humour I've always wished I could have, and when I'm with you I feel like . . ." He took a deep breath. "Like I can draw strength from you." He finally looked up and reached out to take Trip's hand in both of his.   
    "So draw strength from me now. I never feared death until yesterday when I thought you had died. I don't know how I would manage without you around to talk to, to bicker with and to joke with. I've let you get too bloody close to me for you to die now." He drew a ragged breath through his clenched teeth. The tears in his eyes blurred Trip's form, and he had to strain not to shed them. He took a jagged breath and squeezed Trip's hand. "I've never cared a fraction as much for anything as I care for you, and the crew of _Enterprise_. No one's ever cared as much about me as you and this crew does.  
    "So you can't die," he growled softly from behind clenched teeth, reaching the limit of his emotional containment. He bowed his head until it rested on the bed near Trip's side. There he closed his eyes and swallowed hard at the unfamiliar feeling of hot tears coursing down his cheeks. In a raspy whisper he crooned, "I've invested far too much love in you to let you go now."  
    There were several long moments of silence that passed before Malcolm suddenly sat up and quickly spun around. His field training had tuned his senses, and he realized instantly someone was standing behind him. "Captain," he said in a shaky, surprised whisper as he saw the offender. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat and furiously wiped at his eyes as he got to his feet, his hand releasing Trip's instantly. The look on Archer's face was unreadable, somewhere between shock, embarrassment, or disgust and sadness. "I'm sorry," the armoury officer stuttered, honestly not knowing how much the other man had heard. "I didn't know you were there." He shifted as he made to leave.  
    "Easy, Malcolm," Archer said, the look on his face - whatever it had been - was gone now. "It's my fault, I didn't realize you were here," he said disarmingly, waving a hand. Malcolm couldn't subdue the pounding in his heart.  
    "I was just," he swallowed forcibly, "going, sir." Malcolm teetered a moment in place while Archer studied him.   
    The captain didn't want his armoury officer leaving flustered over a few overheard words, but Archer understood Malcolm's reactions. The man did not generally open up to people to begin with and Archer had just intruded on what seemed like a private moment. He was trying to think of how to rectify the moment when Malcolm brushed past him on his way out of sickbay. Archer reacted quickly and grabbed the lieutenant's arm and held him back.  
    Jonathan was shocked at the bewildered look in Malcolm's eyes when their gazes met. He tried to reassure the man, "It's all right Malcolm, I didn't-"  
    "Please unhand me, sir," Malcolm said in an agitated voice. Archer released him instantly with an inward sigh and watched as the tactical officer hurried for the door without looking back. He waited until the doors to sickbay closed before he exhaled.  
    "What a mess I just made," he muttered to himself. He sat down in the seat Malcolm had just vacated and made a mental note to visit Lieutenant Reed in the near future to make sure things were smoothed out. He felt really terrible about walking in on his heart felt confessions. "That kid really cares a lot about you, huh, Trip?" Archer said as he looked over at his unconscious friend.   
    "Hello, what's this?" he inquired as he found a data pad on Trip's bed. Lifting it up, he was surprised to see Superman: The Novel, chapter two displayed. "A bit of light reading?" he inquired of the prone man. He pressed a few buttons and brought up the pad ownership. He wasn't surprised to see it belonged to Malcolm, but the story behind it seemed strange. Reading Superman to a comatose patient? He shrugged and set the pad aside, vowing to return it to the lieutenant the next time he saw him.  
    "Guess it bored you to sleep," Archer joked lightly, but all that filled the room was deathly silence and he shifted uncomfortably. Trying to lighten the situation wasn't helping him at all. He frowned deeply at the somber air and knew that he could no longer joke around. Trip was on his way to death, and Jonathan was determined to find a way to prevent it. He bent and pulled the data pad T'Pol had given him out of his pants pocket and turned it on. He settled in to read the contents of the pad quietly, although he occasionally reached up and patted Trip's arm or offered an encouraging word.  
    The database on the Jaar was quite extensive and Archer wondered how so much information could have been added since T'Pol had last read over the species, or how she had missed so much. While there were many logs about ritual suicides and sacrificial deaths he didn't find anything that fit into what Tsul had done to Trip. He regretted ever having let Tsul escape. He should have brought Tsul to justice. There was no doubt in his mind that the attack on Trip had been premeditated.  
    Suddenly his eyes widened and he typed in a quick passage into the data pad and began a search on 'murders'. Results began feeding back to him at an alarming rate, and his brows curved as he read. Ritual execution wasn't what he'd been looking for all this time after all. There was nothing cultural in the way Tsul had dealt with Trip; it was criminal.  
    The entries he read now described what seemed to be space pirates who enslaved the Jaar women and dictated themselves by their own rules. They were their own nation, separate from their home world, so the data was scarce on them, but it seemed faking deaths to gain hostages or slaves wasn't an uncommon practice. Archer felt like he had just stumbled back into the space repair station that had tried to replace Travis with a replicated corpse. He got to his feet, stunned by his revelations. He needed more information than this pad could provide. His heart-to-heart with Trip would have to be postponed again, hopefully for a dialogue later. He swiftly moved to Phlox's computer terminal and commandeered it.  
    It only took a few access codes and keystrokes to get into _Enterprise's_ full cross-reference database. He plugged the pad's information into the system and put a hand over his mouth as the results began outputting. Ships like Tsul's were well known for what they did, gaining most of their money in slave trading. Since they were a nation outside of the Jaar, most of the entries didn't classify them by that name and instead called them Yuuli, which seemed to be the Jaar word for "outcast". Archer's shoulders slumped as he looked at all the new data he had to sift through. He sighed wearily and muttered, "Oh boy."  


To be continued . . .   


Special thanks to DNash for being my awesome beta-reader.  



	4. Chapter Four: Relevations

CHAPTER FOUR: Revelations  
14th December 2002 - 27th December 2002  
Rating: PG  


    "All senior officers report to the bridge immediately," Jonathan announced over the intercom system. He straightened from his position in sickbay, and smoothed out his uniform before getting ready to head out. He cast a glance at Trip's figure lying on the other side of the room and shook his head determinedly. The things he had just finished reading were too pivotal to ignore, and he couldn't wait to hold a staff. "Don't worry, Trip, I'm going to get you out of this," he said under his breath. Then he turned, opened the doors to sickbay, and stalked out.  
    T'Pol met him on the bridge. Her hands were clasped tightly behind her back and her eyes were wide and inquiring. He ignored her because she was giving him the look that long ago he'd learned meant, 'What you are doing is illogical', and she didn't even know why he was calling the meeting. She was so apt at assuming he was reacting poorly to situations that she could not see to give him the benefit of the doubt. Right now he didn't have time to deal with her reservations. He saw Travis and Hoshi standing in front of the strategy console in the situation room at the back of the bridge, and nodded to them.   
    Archer immediately made his way over to the console and began pulling up the files he had previously accessed in sickbay. As he found the entry he wanted to cull information from, Malcolm arrived, looking a little flustered for being minimally late. "My apologies, Captain," the British officer muttered.  
    "Not a problem, Malcolm," Archer replied, aware that the hour was relatively late. He glanced at each of them for a moment before he nodded to the text displayed on the computer. "I ran across some very interesting information just now while reading over the Vulcan Database's account of the Jaar." Archer had neither the desire nor the time to dance around the subject and instead he cut the chase without any pleasantries. "It seems Tsul and his crew are actually outcasts of the Jaar. They're called Yuuli and they're something like space pirates. One of their common practices is slave trading, which we saw first hand earlier when Tsul tried to unload some of his women off on us in trade for Trip. Well, now we know it wasn't his corpse Tsul was after." Archer jabbed a few buttons until a new display came up. T'Pol looked almost anxious. She hadn't been previously debriefed and was as much in the dark as the rest of the senior staff. She found the circumstances uncomfortable.  
    "They call it _Andar Mal_," Archer said, glancing to Hoshi briefly, "and it's a process in which, through a series of physical applications, a person can be put into 'stasis' indefinitely, apparently to be sold to the highest bidder at a later date."  
    "So Commander Tucker _isn't_ in a coma?" Hoshi asked hopefully.  
    Archer looked a little grim. "I'm not sure," he answered slowly. "While it seems that the _Andar Mal_ worked on Trip, it's unclear whether or not the process will have any lasting effects on a human."  
    "Wasn't he out of oxygen for some time?" Travis asked hesitantly.  
    Archer nodded gravely as he spread his hands out over the situation console. "Yes, however it might not have been for as long as we had previously thought. If Trip had been put into a stasis chamber, he would have been hooked into a central feed of oxygen and nutrients that would have kept him alive and healthy until he was traded into slavery. If he was only taken off life support for the amount of time it took for Tsul's people to put him in the capsule and send him back to us, he might not suffer many repercussions." The way Archer spoke showed that he was struggling with the fact that he was the one who had demanded Tsul return Trip to him, and in doing so removed him from life support, which might have damaged him more.  
    "How does one awaken from _Andar Mal_?" T'Pol asked expressionlessly.  
    "I don't know," Archer answered, defeated. "It's a well-guarded Yuuli secret. The most I could find out was that it requires some sort of serum. I have Phlox looking into it as we speak, but on the chance he can't figure it out, I've got a locational lead for us to follow.  
    "This is a report that says a group of Yuuli attacked a colony of the Dem'angar on the planet Sunaz. The report says one of the Dem'angar was taken by the Yuuli and put into stasis, and that at a later date the Dem'angar were able to revive him. I'll admit it's not much of a lead, but it's all we've got to go on right now."  
    "Shouldn't we go back and see if Tsul isn't still stranded there?" Hoshi asked a little uncertainly. Archer glanced to Travis for an answer.  
    "Long ranges sensors didn't turn up _anything_," the helmsman reported.  
    Archer shook his head and pressed a few buttons on the console. A star system displayed on the monitor, along with several technical readouts. "Sunaz is only six days away from here at warp four. Travis, I want you to lay in a course. See if you can't shave off some time by working with Lieutenant Hess and operating as much as you can at warp five.  
    "Hoshi, see if you can't find any information on the Dem'angar language; I'm not interested in wasting time waiting for translations when we find them. Malcolm, when you get the chance, see that the weapons and the hull plating are both at optimal efficiency in case we run into Tsul or some other problems along the way. We took some damage back there from Tsul, and I want to make sure everything is working." He nodded to each of them and then sighed. "Dismissed."  
    The three young officers all turned and started off towards their duties. Jonathan watched the stars zoom past on the viewing screen for several seconds before he finally acknowledged that T'Pol was still standing by his side, watching him. "I know what you're thinking," he said under his breath. "And I don't want to hear it."  
    T'Pol remained a moment, and then she nodded and departed.  


    "Come in," the tactical officer called as the chime to his door sounded. He looked up as the captain entered. Surprise registered on Reed's face. He got to his feet instantly and stood rigidly. "Captain?"  
    "You're off duty, Malcolm, no need to be so sharp," Archer said fruitlessly. Malcolm's tenseness did not lessen, and Jonathan had to look away from him to focus on his task. "I wanted to apologize for earlier," he began.  
    Malcolm stiffened a little and then tilted his head curiously. "Sir?"  
    "I intruded on your personal reflection with Trip and possibly saw or overheard something you're uncomfortable with me having witnessed." Malcolm didn't move a muscle, but Archer was sure the Englishman had locked his jaw. He sighed a little and looked around Malcolm's sparse quarters absently. "I just wanted to assure you that nothing that happened back in sickbay has any influence over how I think of you as a man or as an officer. As your captain, I feel there should be no misunderstandings like this between us. Your personal life is your personal life." He paused as his words seemed to make Malcolm tense up even further.  
    "I hope I'm not making this any worse," Archer added after a moment's hesitation. "I just didn't want you thinking that I had lost respect for you."  
    "I understand completely, sir," Malcolm clipped his reply.  
    Archer looked at him sternly from the corner of his eye and wished the armoury officer wouldn't be so standoffish and militaristic with him. "Trip means a lot to me as well, Malcolm," he started again, moving until he was in front of the younger man. "I haven't had the chance to grieve properly for him yet, and I'm hoping I won't have to, but I assure you that I will make no less a scene than you did should it come to that. Do you understand me?"  
    "Yes, sir," Malcolm replied stoically.  
    Archer stood there for several more moments, wondering why he was having such an impossible time getting Malcolm to accept his apology. He knew the tactical officer wasn't entirely impressed with his way of running the ship or the fact that as captain he insisted they were not a war ship, while Malcolm kept encouraging him to stock more artillery. Still, it was almost infuriating that even off duty Malcolm refused to socialize even a little with him. It was amazing a man as uptight as Malcolm could have become such a good friend of Trip's.  
    "Oh," Archer said as he reached to unzip one of his pockets, "I forgot to give this back to you earlier. I found it in sickbay after you left." He handed over Malcolm's datapad containing Chaucer and Superman.  
    Malcolm took the pad and momentarily broke his rigid posture as he looked it over before nodding. "Thank you, sir."  
    "It was very nice of you to read something like that to him," Archer commented. He had found a niche and was going to try to crawl in to explore it. "I don't think Trip has ever read any of the Superman novels."  
    "He seemed to be quite a fan of the story to me," Malcolm finally said, but his eyes did not move to look at his captain and instead stared ahead, at military attention.  
    "Well I'm sure he grew up reading the comics if not watching the movies," Archer replied with a smile. Malcolm seemed to dislike the idea of both.  
    "That would seem fitting of him," the tactical officer finally agreed. Archer nodded and looked over to Malcolm absently.  
    "I think it's a nice metaphor," Jonathan stated.  
    Malcolm raised an eyebrow at the comment and actually turned his head to look at his captain for once. "What is, sir?"  
    "Superman," Archer replied.  
    "I don't follow."  
    "He's a kid with a lot of really great skills and because of them, he keeps getting himself into a lot of trouble," Archer explained, smiling softly to the other man. "But despite it, he always manages to defeat the odds and come out on top. Just like a certain engineer friend of ours," he finished.  
    Malcolm swallowed once and met Archer's eyes for a moment, but he was too stumped to reply further. The captain's eyes seemed to twinkle as he looked at Malcolm. Then he turned, opened the door and departed.  
    Malcolm exhaled as soon as the door shut behind Archer, letting his shoulders drop out of weariness. He shook his head, reflecting over what the captain had just said about comparing Trip to Superman. Having never read the story himself, Malcolm was more than a little unfamiliar with the plot, but he liked the outcome of it Archer gave. He moved backwards a little and sat down on his bed as he cued up the datapad.  
    "I could use a happy ending right about now," he softly murmured to himself, and began to read.  


    Archer sat down at his breakfast table, trying to keep his mind off the events that were likely to transpire when they reached Sunaz. Phlox had been unable to find documentation of any sort of serum that could wake Trip from his comatose stasis. As all Jonathan had to rely on were the Dem'angar people. The problem was he wasn't even sure if the colony would still be there. But it was their only lead, so he'd laid in a course. Lieutenant Hess had gotten the engines to run safely at warp four-point-nine for a good part of the journey, so it was only a matter of hours before they would be arriving at the Sunaz solar system.  
    The door to his private mess opened, and Hoshi entered. He looked up and smiled at her, then got to his feet. "Good morning, Ensign," he said almost cheerfully.  
    Hoshi looked around, a little confused, and then nodded back to him. "Good morning, Captain," she replied.  
    Archer gestured to the empty chair to his left. "Please, join me," he offered with a smile. Hoshi looked absently at what he was eating, and took a seat.  
    "I thought you could use a little break from the hustle and bustle of the mess hall, and I wouldn't mind getting a chance to talk with you before we arrive at Sunaz," the captain explained. Hoshi seemed to relax a little at his words.  
    A crewman entered the room with a plate for Hoshi and set it before her. Archer passed her the salt and pepper. "I've done all the research on the Dem'angar that I could, sir, but without voice samples I can't be certain that the syntaxes will align on first contact," she reported, taking the salt shaker and waving some granules onto her food.  
    "I'm actually not that interested in the linguistic part of your life right now," Archer said as he took a bite of his omelet. He chewed and swallowed before continuing. "I've noticed Trip's absence has seemed to be particularly difficult for you."  
    Hoshi paused with her fork in the air and looked right at him. She set the fork down and shook her head. "I assure you, Captain, Commander Tucker's injuries are not affecting the quality of my work."  
    "I'm certain they're not," Archer agreed with a nod. "All the same, I wanted to talk to you about it a bit, one on one." Hoshi studied his face curiously for a moment, and Archer had to stop eating while he explained. "I don't mean to be presumptuous or overly analytical, but I noticed that you seemed to be grieving much more than the others since it happened."  
    Hoshi bowed her head slightly, looking at her food. "I feel like I knew him well. He was like a brother to me, and losing him is hard. Losing anyone is hard. I suppose I just let it show more than most," she explained.  
    "Trip means a lot to many people on this ship. He's my best friend," Archer sympathized. Hoshi bobbed her head in acknowledgement, and a silence graced the room for several long seconds.  
    "I sometimes almost feel empathic," Hoshi said quietly. These were feelings she had taken for granted long ago, but never before had she tried to put voice to them. "Its like . . . some of the others feel such deep loss and pain, but they don't know how to express it, so they bottle it up. But because of my intuition with reading body language, I pick up on it. It can be a little overwhelming."  
    "Body language?" Archer inquired a little quizzically. He knew the term, but wasn't quite certain how it applied to the situation.  
    Hoshi took a moment to ponder her words before saying, "It's part of the whole 'language thing', I guess." She shrugged self-deprecatingly. "It helps me understand what people mean or feel, even if I don't understand their language yet." She lifted her eyes to look at her captain, as if gauging his reaction to this admission. "Almost all people have body language you can read, if you know how."  
    Archer smiled softly. "Like how I can tell you're nervous about telling me this, just by the tilt of your head?"  
    Hoshi smiled, slightly embarrassed, and nodded her head. "Yes. But I can pick it up even when it's not meant to be obvious, or intended to even be read."  
    Archer was silent a moment as he thought about what Hoshi had said. "Have you considered discussing this with Doctor Phlox? It might do you some, and I'm sure he could help," he suggested.  
    Hoshi shook her head negatively. "I don't think that's necessary. I should just get it over with and talk to Malcolm." Her eyes instantly widened as she caught her verbal slip up.  
    "Malcolm?" Archer asked, curious as to why she brought him up.  
    "I mean . . . that is . . . not that Malcolm has anything to do with . . ." But she sighed, knowing any lie she made up would be easily seen through. And this was her captain -- someone she could not lie to.  
    Archer raised his eyebrows. "Are you and Malcolm . . . ?" He gestured with his fork, his tone slightly suggestive. Hoshi stared at him with incredulous surprise.  
    "What?" she breathed in disbelief. "No! _No!_ It's not like . . . That's not what I meant."   
    Archer sat back and leveled a flat stare at her, as if he didn't believe her.  
    She sighed, and her shoulders drooped a little. "It's not what you think. I just think Malcolm and Trip became really good friends and that since the accident Malcolm hasn't been . . . letting himself . . ." She trailed off and sighed. "He hasn't been coping well."  
    "He seemed fine to me," Archer said simply, although he knew Malcolm had been under a lot of stress. He just wanted to hear Hoshi's side of the equation.  
    "He hides it well. Or he tries to, anyway."  
    "Is there something you're not telling me, Hoshi?" Archer asked, honestly curious. He was sensing something in Hoshi that wanted to come out but she wasn't letting it show.  
    She looked down at her plate of food and then took a deep breath. "I probably shouldn't say anything . . . It's none of my business."  
    "If it affects the well-being of members of my crew, I should know about it."  
    "I know," Hoshi retorted, sounding a little exasperated. "That's why I'm trying to phrase it better." Archer nodded and sat back again while the comm. officer studied her eggs in great detail, trying to think of the right words. It seemed unfair that despite all the languages she had learned over her life it was still so difficult to find a way to phrase something in English! "I think . . . Lieutenant Reed has . . . feelings for Commander Tucker." She didn't look up, almost afraid of what she might see in her captain's eyes.  
    Archer tilted his head. "I think most of the crew has feelings for Trip," he started.  
    She looked anxious and leaned closer, but still didn't look at him directly. "No, I mean _feelings_."  
    A moment of silence filled the room as Archer realized the significance of her meaning and compared it to what he had seen and overheard in sickbay earlier. It took a moment for the two dialogues to congeal into that outcome, but once it did he found it relatively easy to come to the same conclusion. "What makes you . . . think so?" he replied at last, his voice suddenly quiet, as if Malcolm might be standing on the other side of the door, privy to their conversation.  
    Hoshi straightened and at last took a stab at her omelet with her fork. "Do you remember when you had me researching everything I could about Malcolm for his birthday our first year out here?" she inquired in a more conversational tone.  
    Archer looked a little taken aback at the change of topic. "Yes. You had Chef make him a pineapple cake that he really enjoyed, if I recall?"  
    Hoshi nodded and took a bite of her meal while she pondered her words. "Well, I did a lot of research while looking for something he likes."  
    Archer looked at her a little sternly. "So you couldn't find out his favourite food, but you discovered his sexual preference?"  
    "I wouldn't say it's his preference, really, just that . . . he's a bit more liberal with that sort of thing," she suggested, and then focused on her meal again.  
    "Liberal? _Malcolm_?"  
    "Maybe it's a British thing?" she offered.  
    Archer gave her a sharp glance and then looked back down to his food. Hoshi ate a few more bites of her meal before the captain looked up at her. "Does he know you know?" he asked finally.  
    Hoshi took a drink of her juice before replying. "I'm not sure. I think so," she replied hesitantly. The communications officer glanced at Archer, who was studying her inquiringly. She set her fork down as she sighed and once more thought of the way to explain things. "The day after his party, he pulled me aside. He said you had told him that I was the one to thank for getting together the cake for him. He thanked me, and then he asked me how I'd found out pineapple was his favourite food." She paused to take a deep breath and shook her head, looking chagrined. "In my over-enthusiasm, I told him everything. That I'd looked through a lot of files, asked around on the ship, called his parents, his sister . . . his old roommate.  
    "He demanded in an alarmed and somewhat irritated tone what his roommate had said. When I told him it was just a simple conversation about food he seemed relieved, but that made me wonder what he'd been so upset about. He explained that he and his roommate had left on bad terms and that he didn't want me to be subjected to any 'exaggerated truths'," she explained, adopting a temporary British accent. "I had caught a glimpse of a write-up in his old room transfer records about . . ." She lowered her voice a touch. " . . . 'conduct with a man unbecoming an officer', and admit the idea first occurred to me then."  
    "'Unbecoming' . . . ?" echoed Archer, incredulous. "What records were these? I hand picked all my personal, and read over everything."  
    Hoshi was getting more and more uncomfortable with the conversation. "They were old records -- from before he joined Starfleet. He was in the Navy then, I think." She shrugged noncommittally. "It doesn't really matter, does it?"  
    Archer's brows beetled. "The source doesn't bother me, but the unbecoming behavior concerns me."  
    "He obviously doesn't want it coming to light," Hoshi countered.  
    "That's what concerns me," Archer interjected.  
    She sighed a little and shook her head. "He's been avoiding me ever since. Every time I try to get a little close to him, he gets all flustered and nervous and hurries to find something else to do. I feel bad for knowing, because I think he avoids me because he's afraid I'll use it against him. I'm not even sure what I know is right! And even if it _is_ what I think it is, you know I would never exploit it, Captain!" she added in her defense.  
    "I know." Archer rubbed his chin thoughtfully and shook his head. "I'm the only one you've told this to, right?" he asked, and Hoshi nodded seriously. "Malcolm needs to know that whatever happened in his past doesn't matter on this ship. I cannot have members of my crew avoiding each other over misunderstandings like this -- whether the events in question are in the past or the present."  
    "He's never done it while he's been on duty, sir," Hoshi defended, almost rising out of her seat as she felt so strongly about protecting Malcolm. "He's had a hard enough time without having his captain pry into his personal life."  
    "I'm not trying to pry into his personal life, Hoshi, but . . ." He spread his hands out over the tabletop. " . . . he's been avoiding me as well for having overheard part of something he was saying to Trip down in sickbay. I understand the need for privacy, but when an officer starts avoiding his captain because of overheard conversations, then the issue needs to be addressed point blank."  
    "Maybe you should just try to apologize to him, and tell him what you heard doesn't make a difference," Hoshi began.  
    "I did! He still wouldn't budge! As if he didn't hate me enough before, now I've got all _this_ to deal with."  
    "He doesn't hate you, Captain. He respects you a lot," Hoshi assured him. Archer gave her a sharp, disbelieving look. "You're a different sort of captain, but I know he respects you. He's just not comfortable with his past. We should respect that, and let it be."  
    "I do respect it, but I still think he needs to _know_ that I'm respecting it. If I don't tell him so, he may think I harbour ill feelings towards him. And if he has feelings for Trip, then everything is going to have to come out in the end anyway."  
    Hoshi gently pushed her plate away from her as she sat back. "I don't like it."  
    "Neither do I, but sometimes you have to face things you don't like," he replied and looked at her directly then offered a smile. "You're not the only one on board with fears to overcome."  
    Hoshi didn't reply for a few moments as she let her captain's words sink in. Archer pushed back his own plate silently and looked back to Hoshi as she shook her head. "I just want Trip to recover," she finally murmured.  
    Archer gave her a soft, reassuring smile. "He will. Keep faith."  


To be continued . . .  


* * *

A super duper special thanks to DNash for tearing apart this chapter and reconstructing it the way I wanted it to be done. Thanks! You are the best beta ever!!  


Also, Merry Christmas / Winter Holiday of Your Choice to all my readers and a Happy New Year!! Consider this chapter a slightly belated present to all of you. Oh yes, and a slight plug for myself, feel free to check out my author's bio for the link to my LiveJournal, where I regularly post updates on the stories I'm working on.  



	5. Chapter Five: Demarcation

CHAPTER FIVE: Demarcation  
3rd January 2003 – 8 April 2003  
Rating: PG  


    The bridge was fully staffed when Archer stepped out of his ready room onto the deck. Upon seeing him, T'Pol rose from where she sat in the command chair, and Archer moved towards her. "Dropping out of warp now, sir," Travis clearly announced. Moments later the viewing screen was filled with the glinting curve of a planet.  
    "I'm only detecting one settlement," Hoshi reported. Archer turned, looking at her quizzically. "There are several thousand life signs there, all concentrated in one general area," she added.  
    "Can you hail them?" Archer inquired.  
    Hoshi pressed a few buttons, and then her brows furrowed. "I'm getting a reply, but I think it's automated."  
    "Put it through," Archer said, as he leaned against his chair.  
    Hoshi pressed a few more buttons, and an alien voice began speaking. "Let me run it through the syntax database again, sir," she quickly stated, and moments later the alien tongue translated.  
    "We, the Dem'angar, are a peaceful colony, not interested in trade or contact from outsiders. Please regard this message and do not disturb us." It began to repeat.  
    Archer's brows furrowed as he met T'Pol's flat expression. They certainly weren't going to let a message keep them from finding a possible cure for Trip.  
    "T'Pol, Travis, come with me. We're going to get some answers."  
    "Sir," Malcolm said, rising to his feet from his tactical station. "I should go with you. You don't know how hostile these people may be to you for going against their wishes."  
    Archer fixed Malcolm with a hard stare, and then shook his head. "No, Malcolm. I need you to remain here on the bridge." He paused to reflect a moment, and then added. "Unless you feel you're not up for the command?"  
    Malcolm stiffened, coming to attention. "No, sir, of course not." His expression still conveyed some pain, though, as if it were evident he was offended Archer didn't think he was able to lead an away team, or command in his absence.  
    "Good." Archer held Malcolm's gaze a moment longer, and then looked to Travis. "Let's go."  
    T'Pol reached the turbo-lift first, followed shortly by Travis. Jonathan looked back over his shoulder at Malcolm for a moment, before stepping into the lift after them and vanishing with the closing doors.  
    Malcolm met Hoshi's eyes, and he shook his head, looking back to his weapons display.  


    Sunaz was a myriad of mottled browns and beiges, painted such by the harsh desert environment on the surface of the planet. The Dem'angar colony, however, was a brilliant beacon of life on the otherwise barren world. With a radius of approximately three hundred miles, the colony spread like a lush green carpet beneath the descending shuttle-pod. Where the water came from, and how the land was kept fertile were unclear, but while the very act of the wasteland supporting life was fascinating, Archer found himself concerned with more important things.  
    Travis expertly navigated the shuttle closer to the surface, searching for a suitable landing place. Archer sat beside him, gazing out over the terrain. T'Pol sent unanswered hails to the surface, hoping for a reply from the colony. They broke through a thick cloud layer, and cities built within the greenery came into view. Unexpectedly, music filled the cockpit. Travis stiffened at the loud noise, but to his credit, the course of the shuttle did not falter.  
    "What is that?!" Archer demanded, his voice booming over the music.  
    T'Pol quickly shut the communication system off, and the noise ceased. "Apparently we've broken through their radio transmission field," she stated coolly. "I'm scanning now for a two-way frequency."  
    Archer looked perturbed at T'Pol's reply, and leaned forward in his navigator's seat, trying to help Travis find a landing area.  
    "Unauthorized shuttle," a static voice suddenly said. T'Pol adjusted the frequency, and the sound cleared. "You have entered a secured area. This colony is off limits to off-world influence. Please return to your ship."  
    T'Pol met Archer's eye and taking that as a confirmation to explain themselves, she answered. "I am T'Pol of the star ship _Enterprise_. We believe your colony has important information that pertains to research we are doing. Request permission to land."  
    "Denied. This colony is off limits to off-world influence. Please return to your ship," the voice repeated.  
    Archer moved from his seat, pressing his communications channel. "I'm Captain Jonathan Archer. I'm sorry we're breaking your protocol. This is a very urgent need for us, and your colony is our only lead. I promise, if you can't help us, we'll leave immediately. I just need to speak with someone who could help us with a medical matter."  
    There was silence for a long time, and Archer ignored Travis' inquiring looking. A burst of static filled the cockpit, and then a different voice said, "Lower your shields."  
    Travis' brows furrowed, and Archer nodded. "Hull plating offline," Travis announced.  
    "We will transmit coordinates to you," the new voice said. "Be aware you are in direct violation of sub-code three-one-fegna, and failure to do as ordered will be considered an incentive to attack."  
    "Understood," Archer loudly replied.  
    Travis altered course as the transmission came through. Before too long, the shuttle was descending through the centre of the city onto what looked to be a shuttle-landing pad.  
    By the time the shuttle was secured, the Dem'angar had already formed a 'welcoming party' for them. Archer exited the shuttle first, hands visibly empty. Travis and T'Pol followed suit behind him.  
    The tallest Dem'angar approached, flanked by two smaller men. "Follow me," he said. Archer nodded, trying to offer a friendly smile, but the man acted uninterested.  
    They were quickly led into the facility and down through several corridors. Travis followed Archer closely, while T'Pol kept her Vulcan scanner out, to scan as she followed. Before long they entered a high-vaulted room. An older looking man, standing by a middle-aged woman, came to greet them. He wore brightly coloured robes, and appeared to be the head of the colony.  
    The man looked Archer over, and then narrowed his eyes. "What is it you want?" he inquired. It was fairly clear he didn't recognize Archer's species, and perhaps for that reason was both more and less wary of him.  
    "My name is Jonathan Archer. I'm captain of—"  
    "I don't really care about that," the man stated. "I am Ertuth. This is my colony. Get on with it."  
    Archer locked his jaw a moment, and then nodded. "I discovered in some of my research that this colony had someone who was put into Yuuli stasis and was later recovered by your people." Archer didn't miss the hard looking in Ertuth's eyes. "We are in a similar situation, and I was hoping you could shed some light."  
    "We do not discuss such a thing. I am sorry." The comment was a dismissal.  
    "No. I don't think you understand," Archer started again. "A crewmember of mine was put under this stasis. He's going to die if you don't help us."  
    "That concern is not mine," Ertuth stated, and waved his hand. The Dem'angar who had escorted them to Ertuth stepped forward again to lead them back to their shuttle.  
    "Why won't you help us?" Archer demanded. "I apologise for breaking your sub-code on off world visitors, but I had no other option. My crewman is going to die, and you're the only people who know anything about this Yuuli stasis at all! If you won't help us, could you at least give us the name of someone who will?"  
    Ertuth looked back at him, his eyes narrowed coldly. "That stasis was over ten years ago. No one now living remembers. It is unfortunate your friend must die, but that is the way of it. Goodbye."  
    Archer gritted his teeth as the tall escort turned him around and pushed him until he was back in the corridor.  
    Back in the shuttle-pod, Archer slammed his fist against his chair arm. "That Ertuth knows something!"  
    T'Pol made certain the hatch was secure and then settled herself into her chair. "The likelihood of finding a solution at this colony was remote," she stated, simply. Archer fixed her with a glare.  
    Travis took off from the landing pad, and shrugged. "At least we know that file was telling the truth, though." Archer looked back to him, waiting for him to elaborate. "Well, we know now that someone here _did_ get put under stasis, and revived. Ertuth himself admitted that much."  
    "It seems the average life span for a Dem'angar is five years," T'Pol explained, as she examined the data she had acquired on her scanner. "It is feasible that the knowledge of the Yuuli stasis has passed out of their memory."  
    Archer sat back in his chair, glowering. He had run into a dead end, and saw no other direction to turn.  


    Malcolm relinquished command to Archer as soon as he returned to the bridge. Both the armoury officer and Hoshi were expectant. The away team had only been gone two hours, and the disheartened looks on Jonathan and Travis' faces spoke volumes. "The Dem'angar proved to be unhelpful," Archer stated flatly. Malcolm averted his eyes, focusing on his artillery console display. Hoshi pressed her lips together sadly. "It would seem we're back to square one."  
    "It is feasible we could locate the Jaar home world," T'Pol stated from where she stood behind Archer. Her hands were clasped at the small of her back, and she seemed willing to help, although not overly invested in the problem.  
    Archer met her gaze, and then nodded his head. They had no other leads to follow. If they could locate someone of the Jaar, it was possible they would have more information. He nodded in agreement.  
    Travis got to his feet, crossed to the strategy console where T'Pol stood, and set about helping her scan for the Jaar home world.  
    Hoshi put her hand to her earpiece, and looked to Archer. "I'm getting a transmission, sir." Archer's eyebrows rose as he looked over to his communications officer. "It's from the planet," she added. Her fingers nimbly flew over the keys at her panel. The viewing screen filled with the visage of a woman.  
    Archer recognized her as the woman Ertuth had been standing with when they entered his chambers. "Hello, Captain Archer," she said with a smile. Archer was alert instantly, looking at her eagerly. "It is unfortunate my father's people are unable to help you," she continued.  
    Archer offered a smile, but it was forced. "He will die, if we cannot revive him," he answered at last.  
    The woman nodded, sadly. She glanced over her shoulder, and then stepped closer to the view screen. "Ten years ago there was a raid on our colony by the Yuuli. Many of our people were taken hostage and put into stasis," she explained. "Among them was my grand-uncle, then monarch of this colony. We ransomed to get him returned to us, but he was in stasis. The technique to revive is a Yuuli technique, and my people are truthful when they say we do not know it. Ten years ago we had a Yuuli captive who reversed the stasis.  
    "We let him go after he helped us, and we closed the colony off. His name was Suul. He left for the planet Dryl. He said many Yuuli go there to try to sell those in stasis. I hope you can help your friend."  
    Archer's eyes were brightly lit with renewed hope, and he nodded. "Thank you so much," he began. He would have offered more, but she cut the transmission off.  
    T'Pol returned to her station. "Dryl is a well known mining colony of the Bena system," she told him.  
    Travis moved to sit back at the helm. "The course has already been laid in."  
    Archer let out a breath and sat down in his captain's chair. "Let's go."  


    The mess hall was empty except for Malcolm and his datapad. He ate a cold dinner and drank from a cup of lukewarm coffee. The mess hall doors opened, revealing Jonathan. His tense face softened when he saw the armoury officer reading in the empty room. If Reed heard his entrance, he did not turn to see who had come in.  
    "Malcolm," Archer said, his voice sounding overly loud in the silence of the mess hall.  
    The lieutenant looked up at last, seeing Archer before him. It was slightly strange to see Jonathan in the mess hall; Malcolm was sure he'd never seen the captain here before.  
    "Yes, sir?" he inquired, looking up at him as he put his pad down.  
    "I think we should talk," Archer stated.  
    Malcolm looked at his food, his minimal appetite long since satisfied, and got to his feet out of ingrained courtesy. "Sir?" he inquired.  
    "I know how you feel about Trip, Malcolm," Archer started, his voice soft. "I just want you to know that I know, and that I understand what you're going through."  
    Malcolm's jaw locked reflexively. "No disrespect, Captain, but I believe we've had this discussion already."  
    "I can't have my crew operating at less than maximum efficiency," Jonathan remarked coolly.  
    Malcolm looked at Archer then, his eyes narrowed. "I think you'll find, sir," the British officer began, haughtily, "if you looked in my work logs, that if anything, I have been _exceptionally_ efficient." He looked away then, realising he was reprimanding his captain.  
    "You've been overworking for six days now, Malcolm," Archer replied, his voice still cool and collected. "You go on duty in three hours, and you haven't slept yet. I believe in your ability to operate with insufficient sleep, and I trust you know you your limits, but we're about to go to a potentially hostile planet, and I need to know my armoury officer is able to fully function."  
    Malcolm's eyes flickered, but there was nothing he felt he could say in defence of himself at that moment.  
    "If you're not willing to talk to me about whatever it is that's keeping you up at night, then perhaps you should talk to Doctor Phlox. He's trained to help with these sorts of things," Archer added.  
    Malcolm pressed his lips tightly together. "Understood, sir," he answered, at last. "I'll take care of it." When Archer did not leave after that, Malcolm found his patience growing thin. "Was there something else, Captain?" he inquired, barely veiling the exasperation growing in him.  
    Archer met his eyes, a sad expression visible in their depths, although his face remained impartial. It looked like Jonathan wanted to say something more, but that he was afraid or unable to speak. Instead, he smiled, defeated. "No, Malcolm. That was all. I was just thinking maybe you ought to get some sleep now, seeing as if things go well, we might be able to revive Trip in a few hours." Malcolm remained quiet. Archer's smile did not waver, and he turned to go.  
    Before he reached the door, Malcolm spoke. "Captain?" he inquired.  
    Archer looked over his shoulder, but said nothing.  
    "Please don't bring this up to me again, sir."  
    Archer departed, head bowed.  


    "Dropping out of warp now, sir," Travis announced as Archer got out of his captain's chair. The ship rumbled slightly as the engines slowed, dropping back to sub-light speeds. Dryl looked similar to Earth from space, and Archer lamented that they had not come to fraternize.  
    T'Pol looked up from where she was scanning the planet. "There is abundant life here, Captain. I'm unclear as to how you expect to find a particular member of the Jaar outcast."  
    Archer's face was strong and confident when he responded. "We'll ask around, of course."  
    "Captain, we're being hailed," Hoshi stated. Archer nodded to her, and the view screen snapped from alien planet to alien visage.  
    "Hello," Archer started.  
    The man on the other end of the screen was not Jaar. "What business do you have in the Bena system?" he inquired.  
    Archer glanced absently to T'Pol, then back to the viewing screen. "I'm here on business," he stated evenly.  
    The man's eyes narrowed. "What business?"  
    "A sort that doesn't involve you," Archer replied curtly.  
    The man did not reply at first, only lifting his head to study Archer better. "What sort of people does it involve?"  
    "Yuuli," Archer answered. "I'm looking for one named Suul. I heard he could get me a good deal."  
    "Ah. Yuuli. You'll want Dryad, clearance code 41328. Transmitting coordinates now." The screen went black, and Archer tilted his head.  
    "Travis, plot those coordinates into shuttle-pod one and then meet me in the docking bay. We've got some aliens to bribe," Archer stated. He started for the turbo-lift. T'Pol met him at the doors, and he stopped.  
    She looked at him as if wanting to advise him against going into a potentially hostile situation without herself or a security officer, but the look in Archer's eyes told her this was an argument she couldn't win. She narrowed her eyelids slightly and stepped back, understanding if not agreeing.  


    Travis landed the shuttle in a hanger so run down the shuttle looked sorely out of place. "I sure hope it's here when we get back," he commented as he locked the hatch behind them.  
    Archer patted down his jacket, feeling his phase-pistol at his side, and offered Travis a reassuring nod. "We won't be long," he advised.  
    Following the directions they'd received before leaving _Enterprise_, they came out of the docking bay and into a ratty thoroughfare. Tall buildings loomed on either side of them, and unsavoury looking beings tromped along beside them. Archer and Travis stuck together, the latter keeping track of their progress on his PADD. "In here, sir," the ensign said, indicating an inhospitable doorway on their right.  
    They took a dark entrance into a darker establishment, and were met with loud music, and hazy smoke, and the metallic scent of something freshly killed. Travis squinted in the poor lighting, but fearlessly lead the way. Archer took note of the patrons in the establishment, sitting at low tables, dining on red meat. A smile graced his lips, but it lacked mirth.  
    A majority of the patrons met their arrival with glittering yellow glares -- a sure sign Jaar surrounded them.  
    Travis approached what appeared to be a bar, and the two of them took seats. Bartenders, Archer had learned, were veritable founts of information. The woman behind the counter came over to them without preamble. "Don't see too many outsiders around these parts. You two looking for someone?" she inquired. Her breath was rancid, and Archer didn't blame Travis when the ensign looked away, to ostensibly to assess the crowd. He, on the other hand, curled his toes inside his boots and bore the stench.  
    "We're looking for a deal. We heard Yuuli frequented here."  
    The bartender laughed, and Archer fought not to reel backwards with the putrid stench that followed. "We gets lots of Yuuli here," she answered. "You're wanting girls or men?" she inquired, pulling a datapad out from behind the bar.  
    "Doesn't matter," Archer said, coolly. "Three of either should suffice."  
    The datapad blinked in the bartender's face, and she grinned, showing a row of yellow, rotten teeth. She nodded her head, inclining it towards one of the Yuuli who sat alone at a table. "Tem'ar. He should be able to help you."  
    "Thanks," Archer said, getting to his feet.  
    "Not a problem. I'd be happy to get you boys a drink, if you'd like," she added.  
    "No, thanks!" Travis called with feigned cheerfulness, and followed Archer as he approached Tem'ar's table. The Yuuli looked up at them dispassionately; he appeared down on his luck, and a nearly empty bottle of liquor was nestled in his right hand.  
    Tem'ar's eyebrows went up when Archer and Travis stopped in front of his table. He swallowed and blinked ruddy at them. "Yeah?"  
    Archer sat down in the seat across from him. Travis stood behind the captain, keeping watch. "We're interested in what you're dealing," Archer said, his tone conversational.  
    Tem'ar's eye's lit up, and vigour returned to him. "Ah!" he blurted, and sat up. "How many?"  
    "Three," Archer replied, as his eyes narrowed.  
    "I think I can handle that," Tem'ar answered. He got to his feet then, his chair falling back in a clatter that was lost to the noise in the establishment. Archer followed suit more carefully, and the three were soon back out on the street.  
    Tem'ar walked briskly. As he was almost a head taller than Travis, the humans found it a little difficult to keep up. "You're wanting three," Tem'ar said to himself. "For menial or manual?"  
    Archer didn't know if the dosages would matter, and answered. "Two menial, one manual?" he inquired.  
    Tem'ar glanced over his shoulder at Travis, and then to Archer, and then grinned broadly.  
    "I like you guys," he announced gleefully. "I'll show you the girls, first."  
    Tem'ar lead them into a docking bay that was slightly cleaner than the one where they had landed. Tem'ar's ship didn't look like it had seen space in a few years, and his cargo hold was open. As he led them through the ship, he talked candidly to them. "Been in this business a while now, and I've never seen your type around here before. Where you boys from, now?"  
    "Earth," Travis answered, but his voice trailed off as they stepped into the cargo hold. Lining both sides of the ship were stasis chambers, most filled with occupants.  
    "Never heard of that. Is it far?" Tem'ar inquired.   
    Travis was speechless as he stared, and Archer wasn't exactly keen on the Yuuli learning of Earth's home coordinates, so he abruptly stopped.  
    "These two look good," he announced. He gestured towards two chambers containing a pair of aliens who were delicate, and glossy purple in the lighting. Tem'ar clucked as if debating, then nodded.  
    "All right. Wouldn't pick you for a taste of the Zerrin's, but I can see the appeal," he replied, turning to look back at them.  
    Travis, scrutinizing the women in the chamber, wrinkled his nose. "How long have they been like this?"  
    Tem'ar leaned towards the chamber, assessed a blinking light, and shrugged. "Just a few years. Perfectly new."  
    "How do we know they're not damaged?" Archer inquired, his face expressionless. Tem'ar tried to laugh it off, but Archer's face did not soften.  
    "I wouldn't pull one over on you," Tem'ar protested. When Archer still did not yield, Tem'ar folded his arms across his chest. "You don't trust easily, do you?"  
    Travis cocked his head. "What keeps them alive?" he inquired. Tem'ar glanced to Travis, then back to Archer.  
    "You two never bought a stasis before?" he asked. Archer shook his head.  
    "Heard about them, but I wanted to see it for myself," the _Enterprise_ captain replied. "What exactly is 'stasis,' anyway?"  
    "It's a cultural technique," Tem'ar answered curtly, obviously unwilling to discuss the trade secret.  
    Archer shrugged, pretending not to care. "Can you wake them up now? I'm not interested in paying for dead Zerrin's."  
    Tem'ar narrowed his eyes. "It's not good to wake them up, and restasis them after. You'd have to take them with you on your ship."  
    "We have a room prepared for them, and the other, already," Travis answered coolly. He nodded towards the woman closest to him. "Wake this one up, I like her. We can keep the other two in stasis until we're on the ship."  
    "Just to show our good will," Archer added. "I don't mean to mistrust. I'm sure you deal in only the finest goods . . ." Tem'ar beamed at the praise, ". . . but one can never be too sure. Besides, I'm not entirely certain how this destasising process works."  
    "It's simple, really. But first, what about payment?" Tem'ar asked, tersely.   
    "We'll pay after you prove to us this one'll wake up, undamaged," Archer replied, keeping his eyes on the chamber that held the Zerrin.  
    Tem'ar looked slightly perturbed, but then brushed it off. He hadn't sold anything in a long while; he wasn't about to run off his first customers because of a few peculiarities. "All right, but be mindful, they're always a little groggy at first." He reached out and pressed a button on the chamber. A small drawer popped open on the side of the chamber, revealing a thin tube filled with milky white substance. Tem'ar took the vial from the drawer.  
    Travis' gaze flickered to Archer, but the captain dissuaded him with his eyes. A few more buttons pushed, and the glass coverlet of the chamber rose up, exposing the Zerrin to the elements. Tem'ar pulled her hair away from her neck, placed the end of the vial to her artery, and injected the serum into her with a flip of a switch on the vial. She immediately took a ragged gasp of breath, and her eyes opened. Travis only then noticed she was strapped into the chamber with thick black belts, and was immobile.  
    "Works like a charm," Tem'ar answered, smiling. The Zerrin looked around, confused.  
    "I'm sorry we doubted you," Archer replied. "The process is the same for the manual labourer, too?" he inquired.  
    Tem'ar nodded. "It's worked every time I've used it. It's the same serum, so it's the same process. Some recover quicker than others, but it's all administered the same way. I know you'll have no problems with the others." Archer nodded in agreement, and stepped back to pull out his datapad. "Now about payment," Tem'ar insisted.  
    Archer flipped the datapad on, and queued up a currency figure. He glanced up. "Right. Give him his payment, Mr. Mayweather."  
    Travis drew his phase-pistol lightning quick and wasted no time stunning Tem'ar. The Yuuli dropped to his knees and fell face-forward onto the deck, unconscious. Archer stepped over the prone body and opened the second Zerrin's vial chamber, and retrieved the serum.  
    Travis kept his phase pistol trained on Tem'ar in case he should recover from the stun, but he was acutely aware of what Archer was doing.  
    "Let's go, Travis," Archer called, pocketing the vial inside his jacket.  
    Travis pressed his lips together, looked at Tem'ar, and then back to the Zerrin, who was watching them confusedly. "What about her?" he inquired, his eyes belaying how he felt about leaving her alone to deal with Tem'ar's wrath when he awoke.  
    Archer hesitated. He didn't want to be charged with theft, nor did he have any desire to become her keeper. His choices diminished abruptly when the Zerrin herself suddenly cried out, "Please, don't leave me!"  
    Archer grimaced and strode back towards her. All he could think was that somewhere, someone thought this girl and her companion were dead or lost, and he had the ability to return them to their homes. He set about releasing her bonds. Travis kept an eye on both the cargo hold entrance and Tem'ar. Archer knew they'd have to revive her companion as well, since it was obvious they had been caught together. Once he pulled her free, he set about reviving the other Zerrin.  
    He regretted the troubles that might arise from saving these women, and the backlash he might get from T'Pol, but he found now that they had voices and were individuals he couldn't leave them. He took another stasis serum from an adjoining chamber, and administered it to the second Zerrin. She awoke groggily, and he helped pull her out and onto her feet. The first girl hugged the second tightly, and they spoke to each other in brief whispers.  
    Archer slipped his jacket off and gave it to one of the girls, and Travis did the same for the other. Both women were dressed in thin flimsy gowns, and seemed grateful for the warmer clothing. "We have to move quickly," Jonathan informed them. The Zerrin women nodded, and the group hurried out of the cargo hold, off toward the shuttle-pod.  


Many special thanks to Dnash for being an extraordinary beta, as usual. And apologises to my readers for taking so long to get this chapter out. I promise the next will be better, and won't take as long. :) Thanks for sticking with me. 


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